


You are the Moon

by ifinoneyear



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinoneyear/pseuds/ifinoneyear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be his final reaping...was truly such an honor...</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are the Moon

**You are the Moon:**

He'd been called a remarkable number of things through his days, the most ridiculous to him of course, was A God. Reaping was a job, and his position and title never mattered to him- others praised the ground he walked on, and he continued every day precisely the same as the last. How boring...Undertaker wasn't interested in what the other reapers had to offer- none of them were sick enough. That was to say something, in their line of work. They weren't morbid enough to share his humour- and so stoic as always he moved through his days- and then Vincent Phantomhive crosssed his path and forever changed everything he knew. 

Vincent shared his views. Shared in his dark humour and found beauty in death- something majestic and elegant- as Vincent himself had once said. Yet inspite of their shared views, and how over the course of a few short months, Undertaker joined to his side at every free moment he found, Vincent could not find any appeasement in Undertakers living- he was right of course. He was a repaer because he was born to be a reaper, and that was all he'd ever known.

"I don't hear you laugh when you talk about work." The Earl argued, "You don't smile. You find it an occupation of time- a fulfilling occupation of time, even- but you take no true joy in it, as you want to. As you ought to." Undertaker could call to mind every single detail of that conversation- from the way Undertaker had tried to argue that without his work, he'd go mad, and Vincents smirk-turned-smile as he shrugged and suggested casually "Find another occupant of your time..." Undertaker didn't bother to mention that to be honest, he already had. He spent more time in Vincents company, aiding him with his own work, than he did reaping. Undertaker will sometimes close his eyes and remember fondly the next series of events, how he'd huffed argumentatively despite that Vincents soft laugh drew a smile to his face- 

"I don't know what you imagine could possibly occupy my time so well..." Perhaps he'd known what he was trying to draw out of Vincent- either way, it worked. Vincent arched a delicate eyebrow at him as he leaned forward over the grass. 

"Is that so...?" There was that mischeivous smile. Undertaker said nothing, as he suddenly had a lapfull of a cheshire-grinning Vincent, whose lips found the Undertakers quickly. That moment seemed to stretch on forever in his mind. That moment when he forfeited his already stolen heart into Vincent Phantomhive's waiting hands- that moment where he'd vowed nothing would ever bring him the same wonderful rush he found in Vincents lips. The same moment he'd promised he'd never pick up his scythe again- because he'd be by Vincents side, an ever protector. Vincent had said with a grin that he could think of nothing more wonderful- and then in a matter of weeks, he was dead. 

Undertaker had realized this fact with sinking horror- that he was too late. When he saw the flames, he found himself on his knees. He didn't know when he'd gone into the fire exactly, only that, alive or dead, he had to find Vincent. And find him he did...

Amidst the flames, even without the glow of life, Vincent was the embodiment of lovely. His soul would be the last known reaping of the legend. 

He attended the funeral. Hell, he even buried the bodies. He spent more time outside Vincents grave than Ciel did- and all the while with a broken heart, remembered his vow to protect that which was most precious to his Vincent- laughter, smiles, and Ciel. Knelt down by the grave, by his grave...He told Vincent everything. He told of Ciels return, and how he missed Vincent more with every day. In the Silence between words, he thought maybe he heard Vincents voice- but he knew better than to listen to dead whispers- He realized with a cackle that "Even dead, you tell the best jokes-!" When he'd sobered after a long, bitter laughing fit, he laid one bony hand over the grave, and smiled kindly. 

"Yes. You're right of course..." He leaned, kissed the corner of the gravemarker, and gave Vincent his last vow. "I won't let that noxious beast take Ciels soul..." His eyes were serious, but his smile deranged. "Ciel Phantomhive will be my final reaping- this I vow..."


End file.
